"If I were not a geentlemon and a humorist," he said, impressively, agitating his stick nervously at the building front, "I could say much that nae Scut may say. But were I nae Scut, I'd say this to ye: 'Ye have all the eelements of a confairmed heeritic. Ye've nae sense of deecint fun. Ye're not a man for a' that, as most men air--ye're an ass, plain and simple, wi' naether the plainness nor the simpleecity o' the individual that Balaam rode. Further--more--'" What Lang Tammas would have said furthermore had he not been a Scot the world will never know, for from the other side of the street--farther along, however--came the squawking voice again: "Gang awa', gang awa', ye crittur, ye cow! Hoot mon--hoot mon--hoot mon! Gang awa', gang awa'!" And this was followed by a raucous cry, which might or might not have been Scottish, but which was, in any event, distinctly maddening. And even as the previous insults had electrified poor Tammas, so this last petrified him, and he stood for an appreciable length of time absolutely transfixed. His mind was a curious study. His coming had been prompted entirely by the genial spirit which throbbed beneath his stony Scottish exterior. For a long time he had been a resident of the most conspicuous Scotch town in all literature, and he was himself its accepted humorist. Then on a sudden Thrums had a rival. Drumtochty sprang forth, and in the matter of pathos, if not humor, ran Thrums hard; and Lang Tammas, attracted to Drumsheugh, had come this distance merely to pay his respects, and to see what manner of man the real Drumsheugh was. [Illustration: TAMMAS MEETS DRUMSHAUGH] And this was his reception! To be laughed at--he, a Scotch humorist! Had any one ever laughed at a Scotch humorist before? Never. Was not the test of humor in Scotland the failure to laugh of the hearer of the jest? Would Scotch humor ever prove great if not taken seriously? Oh, aye! Hendry never laughed at his jokes, and Hendry knew a joke when he saw one. McTaggart never smiled at Lang Tammas; and as for the little Minister--he knew what was due to the humorist of Thrums, as well as to himself, and enjoyed the exquisite humor of Tammas with a reserve well qualified to please the Presbytery and the Congregation. How long Lang Tammas would have stood petrified no man may say; but just then who should come along but the person he had come to call upon--Drumsheugh himself. "_Knox et præterea nihil!_" he exclaimed. "What in Glasgie hae we here?" Lang Tammas turned upon him. "Ye hae nowt in Glasgie here," he said, sternly. "Ye hae a vairy muckle pit-oot veesitor, wha hae coom on an airand o' good-will to be gret wi' eensoolts." "Eensoolts?" retorted Drumsheugh. "Eensoolts, ye say? An' wha hae bin eensooltin' ye?" "That I know nowt of, save that he be a doonricht foo' a-heepin' his deealect upon me head," said Lang Tammas. "And wha are ye to be so seensitive o' deealect?" demanded Drumsheugh. "My name is Lang Tammas--"